


Priceless

by tooth_and_claw



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Just Gals Being "Pals", Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooth_and_claw/pseuds/tooth_and_claw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami intends to resolve some issues with Korra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priceless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



When the little water tribe girl come careening into the mid-day village, she had such an intense expression on her tiny brown face that Asami's heart skipped three full beats, one for each fear: a surprise blizzard, an animal attack, or her father come at last. She had time to stand up, hand over her heart as if to keep it in place, and then the little girl burst into screams: “They're leaving! They're leaving! It's time!”

All over the snow-packed village, people's heads popped out of homes and from behind half-unloaded sleds packed high with supplies for the Long Night. Asami didn't notice that she'd slackened her grip on the cord of firewood she carried until several pieces of kindling tumbled onto her toes. She winced against the pain-- and of course, that's when Korra emerged from the homestead, with Mako trailing behind. Asami bent to pick up the spilled wood. She didn't flinch when Mako's hands joined her. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Asami didn't mean to be short with him. She never did, and succeeded most of the time. Mako just shrugged. He returned none of the load to her, instead filling his arms until commotion drew them both to their feet and their eyes away from each other's faces.

Korra had rushed past them, joining a steady stream of people converging on the little girl, who was hopping from one foot to the other. Asami could now see the girl was grinning, grinning and trembling with a mysterious joy easily mistook for mortal terror from a distance. The group forming around her soon blotted out any sight of the little one in a sea of blue and grey.

“What's going on?” Bolin joined them, wiping his hands clean of Moose Elk fat.

“I don't know,” Mako craned his neck to see. “Should we find out?”

“Looks like we don't need to,” Asami nodded her head at the gathered masses, which rippled away from the center. Katara was kneeling next to the little girl. The susurration of the crowd overwhelmed what they were discussing, but there wasn't a long wait. With one still-supple hand raised, Katara quieted all voices. The only sound was the rushing of winds over the compound's walls. In the bright sunlight and against the snow, Asami had to squint to see them well.

“Our Scout has reported back: the migration has begun. The moon calls them to the sea, and we follow. Women of the Water Tribe . . . let the hunt begin!”

And a roar of female voices carried away even the wind.  
***

Stretching across the ice in a black wriggling line, the Seal Penguin females began their long shuttle to the sea. Asami watched them crawl to the horizon, Mako and Bolin traded jokes about fish vomit and waiting husbands, and Korra knelt on the cliff’s edge, wrapping a spear with fresh leather. “They’ll be back when the Long Night passes. Like clockwork. I love this.” Korra said.

“Why do you do it? *How* can you do it? Those poor, pitiful baby animals!” Bolin chucked a snowball over the side. It took a long time to hit the ground.

“Well . . . ancestral ritual, I guess,” Korra examined the edge of the spear, running her finger along the bright glint of it until a spot of red sparkled in the dying sunlight. Asami stared at the suspended jewel and felt numb. “The females go out, get food for their males and their chicks, and we do the same. It’s the only time all the women go out together. It’s kind of like a competition. Everyone in pairs, you know? Someone experienced, someone inexperienced.”

Other women were watching too, and Asami noticed them clustering, breaking off, families with daughters swapping with cousins and aunts.

“Who are you going with?” Mako asked and Asami saw it: he wanted it to be him. He didn’t want her to be with anyone else, he didn’t want to be separated from Korra. He never had. It burned like Korra’s blood.

“I am.” Asami said, and Korra dropped her spear.

****

“Are you *sure.”

“Korra, stop asking. Yes. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Korra put her hands up in deference but Asami didn’t miss that her shoulders were still tense. The night was stretching on and she’d asked this too many times for Asami’s patience. It should have been cold tonight, a bitter and brittle freeze heralding the darkness to come. The stars were cut glass, as fine as any chandelier she’d owned, and they gloried over the village terrace. There must have been twenty, thirty pairs of women gathered. Korra and she were seated across from one another, just like every pair, staring into each other’s burning faces. Separated, by a campfire that roared and obscured and threw up sparks that rivaled the heavens.

Asami didn’t miss the symbolism. “You think I’m weak.”

“No!” Korra started. “No, never!”

Her face was so open. Korra was just terrible at lying.

***

Why *was* she doing this?

It was like all the numbness she’d felt since Korra and Mako came back hand in hand was coming off in sheaves, emotional insulation peeled off to be replaced instead by a complicated amalgamation of leather, fur, and warm fleece. Korra had offered to help her dress for the hunt, but That was an indignity Asami refused. She was glad she had the foresight to do so.

It was because of that lie Korra couldn’t tell. Or how she refused to meet her eyes most of the time. How she was so surprised when Asami volunteered to help cut firewood, or watch the local children. Whatever it was Asami did, Korra was shocked. Not like she was surprised Asami was a capable, willing helper and not a rich-girl stuck in the boonies, lamenting her bad fortune. That was kid’s reading of a situation, or—Asami rolled her eyes, struggling into an overcoat—a boy’s. Or, frankly, Korra’s. It was like Asami’s very *presence* was the startling thing. Every pressing question—are you sure? Is that okay?—could be translated: wow, you’re still here?

Asami’s fingers were fumbling the bone clasps. She had to stop and force her hiccupping breath to slow. Those thoughts were like a lead foot on a gas pedal: rage in a drag race, picking up speed. It wasn’t really fair. She didn’t think Korra knew, or was *trying* to push her out and make her feel like an outsider. It wasn’t malicious—gods and spirits, Korra was far too direct for that. Any manipulation or subtly on that girl’s part had to be accidental. Asami kneaded this question every night before she fell asleep, bone tired from a day of trying to prove she belonged and wasn’t going to be a burden: why did Korra want her . . . away?

Asami found the answer only because she recognized it in herself. It was an epiphany that came when they were repairing a section of the ice wall that cradled the tribe. Korra could do it on her own but Asami insisted she wanted to know that hows and the whys of its engineering, and Asami realized she loved that wall—it kept the terrifying, empty plain from her sight. That was the only thing she *really* missed about Republic City, and it wasn’t so much a feature of culture shock as it was *landscape* shock. Republic City was bays and sky scrapers, but the further inland you went, it was also a city of hills and terraces, and then mountains. It was a place where they sky was a distant thing easily punctured by airships and tower tops. Here, though . . . here the sky lay heavy on the ice, and there was no interruption between land and horizon. There wasn’t a line there, only a place where the blue and the grey and the white washed into itself. Look down, there was ground below you; look up, sky above, but they were incestuous. It filled her with dread and vertigo. Asami kept watch on that liminal space like a little kid staring at their window at night, certain, at any moment, a dreadful face would press itself against that glass. Asami couldn’t shake the fear that one day she’d see a line of her father’s death machines roll out of the haze.

That day on the wall, the irrational vision wouldn’t leave her, and she sat with the fear so long Asami began to cognate that there were things lurking behind the fear. A little hope, twisted up. Lots of anger. Betrayal. The daughter’s despair. And shame. More than anything, shame. Shame that he still existed. Shame that she wanted to see him. Shame she hadn’t seen him enough, close enough, to know who he really was. Shame that she wept with her hands on her mouth and nose to make no noise louder than a choke because her daddy was gone, her family was gone, and she was so alone. Shame that she shared his blood.

And Korra had asked her a question, and Asami tore her eyes from the terrible horizon, and Korra couldn’t quite look at her. As usual. That was when Asami understood.

She was Korra’s shame.

***  
  
“Goodbye, girls! Have fun murdering small animals!” Bolin waved cheerfully, hanging off one of the flag poles gating the entrance to the village. Pabu skittered up his chest to sit on his shoulder and wave right along, a tiny red dot jigging up and down. All the men were along with them, hooting and hollering, sons and fathers and husbands and the single men cheering on their sweethearts. Mako was a lone figure made remarkable only by his stillness as he watched them go. _I've made him nervous_ , Asami thought. Korra was saluting him and her father, and Katara, who was one of the few women staying behind. She was too old, she said, but Asami wondered. Maybe she just liked keeping an eye on home, or maybe she just hated killing. Thinking about *that*, Asami's stomach squirmed like live bait.

Korra finished her goodbyes in good cheer. She had a big, open grin, but it waned to a shy sliver when turned Asami’s way. “Älright. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Asami said. I'm going out there, into the white. Korra had no trepidation. She led them out across the great ice plain, and as they moved, the other women stripped off pair by pair, those walking with them drifting away as ice floes would. Korra was singing, and Asami was incredibly grateful for that. It filled the landscape when the landscape was all that was left.

**** 

They took lunch in the shade of an embankment, icicles catching all the sun's clear rays and fracturing them into rainbows. Asami was surprised by how warm she was. The long walk kept her muscles burning and the clothes were good. She was embarrassed to realize that she'd assumed a certain amount of discomfort would come with the territory of Southern Water Tribe goods. They had such a reputation of being, well, hicks-- rough and uncultured people, second only to the swamp dwellers. At least, so were the prejudices of Republicans, most of whom hailed from the Northern Water Tribe if they were water benders. Asami felt as ugly as the rumors, thinking of how carefully Korra's mother had stitched these clothes. "So," These were the first words she'd used since they left. "What are we going to be hunting?"

Korra gnawed on her jerky and grinned, the effect feral. "Well . . . we have a couple of options. The safest is tracking down a Rabbit-Fox, but that's not very exciting. Walrus-Whales beach out near the coast this time of year, but they can be scary. Maybe a Moose-Elk? Or--" Korra stared at the icicles, chewing. "Hmm."

"What?"

Korra washed down her jerky, still thinking. "Seal penguins attract Snowy Wolf Owls. I don't think I've ever seen someone bring back one of those. They aren't great for eating, but the feathers, you should see them. The pelts are just the softest, warmest things." Her excitement was obvious.

"Then that's what we're going to try for?"Asami meant it as a rhetorical question, but to her startlement, Korra's face transformed in a way she had never seen. If Asami could imagine one expression for Korra, it was *hunger* -- for excitement, for victory, for experience, for joy, for—well, for whatever she wanted. And when mentioning the Snowy Wolf Owl, the Hunger came on so fierce and heated that Asami thought the flush in Korra's cheeks could melt the icicles better than the sun. But now she froze up and the Hunger was tethered. Sobriety slipped in, drawing her brows together. She looked . . . responsible. She was stopping to think.

_How you've changed._

"Snowy Wolf Owls are huge, and they're really dangerous. They have the fangs, they have the claws, and their wings could break your bones. I don't know if we can take one down."

"You mean you don't know if *I* could take one down," Asami said. The sharp edge to her question surprised her. She knew she wasn't a hunter; why this entirely reasonable response from Korra irritated her so much, she was hard pressed to explain. Korra couldn't conceal her responsive anger, but that too lingered only a moment, and instead of responding in kind Korra took a moment to wrap up the jerky and refill their water horn by turning one of the long icicles into liquid.

"Actually, no. I meant *we*. I, um . . . I haven't exactly done this myself.” Korra sighed, screwed the cap back on, sat down looking more like a teenager in need of direction than the fearless Avatar. “I grew up being watched over by the White Lotus. Travelling the world, training . . . you miss out on a lot of stuff.”

( _Asami was eight years old, sitting at her desk while her teacher yammered on. The few other students in the room were studious, serious kids, and usually Asami joined them in their fervor for good marks, but today she stared out the window. The school building had been so tall, the tallest she’d ever been in. Those windows had been frightening at first, but as the semester had worn on, she’d crept closer to them. Now it was winter, and in the streets below, seven stories down, the Fire Festival was in full swing. Asami had never been. When she was even smaller, she’d asked. Her father’s brow crinkled, and all he did was stare at the portrait of Asami’s mother, and that was that.)_

 The older she got, the less of the city she saw. Tutors and lessons, business trips, arranged meet and greets of the elite. Korra stared into the distance. Asami had never considered that she wasn’t just a country girl, naïve because of her rural roots.

_We both grew up like caged birds._

***

They left behind the empty, flat nothing that scared Asami so, and were now in hills of white, mounds that gently arced and dived. The sun had bid them goodnight and farewell, and now the wind came in its place. For the first time, Asami was cold.

She never realized how bright the night could be.  Between a moon full of milk-light and the endless sparkle of stars, everything glowed. Republic City rejected night as well, but they filled the spaces it left with firelight and candle light and electric light, all of them gold and molten, human. The stars and moon had no human in them. This was not the place for people. This was the light of spirits.

The Moose-Elk herd chuffed, struck the ice with their hooves. Korra hissed. “The wind’s changing. I think we’re going to end upwind.”

“Should we move?” Asami murmured, her eyes not leaving the rustling animals. She wasn’t sure what they were doing. They weren’t rooting at the tundra ground, but were standing in a tight circle. A few calves (were they called calves? Kids, maybe? Oh, she didn’t know) galumphed around the legs of their parents, but they didn’t stray far. Maybe they were trying to sleep.

Korra contemplated, and then stuffed her mouth into her hands to keep from laughing aloud. “No. I can’t believe I—here, watch.”

She swirled her fingers, and Asami felt a breeze tickle her eyelashes. Airbending, of course. It was still so new to Korra that the breeze very quickly escalated into a gust, and both of them had to duck and rub ice crystals out of their eyes. She got it within a few more tries, and then they were safe to continue waiting.

“This is a lot more boring than I thought,” Asami said. Korra chuckled.

“Bet you’re regretting it now.”

Asami rested her chin on the snow. “No.”

   ***

 

 That was not a lie when she said it, but it was now. The cold became a living thing, and it was vampiric, starving, a beast of knives. Boredom was the only thing worse, because she could find nothing else to take her mind off the ache in her toes. Once in a great while, they would risk moving deadening limbs, but that was all. Asami didn’t realize she was shivering until she wondered why the Moose-Elk were jittering like a drop of water on hot metal. She risked detection to burrow down into the warmth of her coat.

 "Are you okay?" Korra whispered. She slithered closer. "We can come back tomorrow if--"

 "J-j-j-just co-co-cold." Chattering teeth didn't help her convince anyone, herself included. Their fur-lined hoods also had masks to cover their noses and mouths. Korra hooked a brown finger over her own and pulled it down so Asami could see her frown.

 "I don't w-w-want you mothering me," Asami hissed. One of the Moose-Elk brayed, the sound echoing through the hillocks and ice. When the herd had quieted down and drifted back into their mysterious patterns, Asami pulled down her own mask. "Why do you keep treating me like a child? You're new to this, too."Cut it *out*!"

Korra recoiled. "What is *up* with you, Asami? You're biting my head off for no reason. I'm just making sure you're okay."

"Every five minutes!"Asami's mittened hands balled into fists. "Gods and spirits, you're reminding me of a *nanny*." She was being ridiculous and she knew it. This temper tantrum come out of nowhere was exactly the sort of childish behavior deserving of a nanny and her spankings, but that anger she kept stuffing down had risen again, acidic as bile. It warmed her, brought life back to her limbs. Korra's nostrils flared, the moonlight not quite able to lift the shadow her hood cast over her eyes.

 "Well excuse me for being concerned! Maybe I should let you lead us on, huh? Since you're so sure you know exactly what to do here? Go ahead-- go spear us a trophy!" She was still whispering, but it was forced through clenched teeth.

 "Whatever happened to Korra the adventurous? Am I holding you down? I bet you could take out this whole herd if you wanted to."

 Korra thumped the snowbank with her closed fist. "You are being such a *brat*! It wasn't my idea that you come along. Yes! You are slowing me down, even with my bending, because you don't know what you're doing!"

 "There it is!"Asami snarled. "So you admit it at last."

 "Me? Admit what?" Korra looked genuinely baffled, though still furious.

 "Admit that I'm just odd-man out, now that you've got what you wanted."

Korra flapped her mouth soundlessly. Once it was out, Asami couldn't regret it. She was not the type to beat around the bush, though she usually delivered her arguments with more tact and less accusation, but this felt like a boil lanced: all the pus and poison had to come out at once. Sweet Lady Yue, what was underneath *stung*. She was knocked senseless with the hurt of it; tears burned on her frosted cheeks, appearing as suddenly as the rage had. She wouldn't be saying anything else for the lump in her throat.

Talking to Mako hadn't been like this, not even when she knew it was finished (which was so much earlier than he did). She had been angry, of course she had, and hurt. But with everything else going on, and compared to the heart-wrecking betrayal of her father-- oh, she shouldn't of thought of him. The tears came quicker now and she had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle herself.

Korra had all but disappeared in the deluge of this emotional font. She didn't have a smart response. Her shoulders were hunched up near her muffed ears, whole body rigid -- Asami had seen her this way when one of the village women handed her a squalling child, Korra gone stony with horror-- she was utterly baffled by tears. Asami would have felt sorry for her if she wan't pissed and miserable. Mako might have been her ticket into this insane ride, but she never had a choice. In the end, the quicksand of her father's beliefs would have sucked her down and drowned her. But . . . oh, they had almost made it worth it, hadn't they? Sweet, funny Bolin. Mako, not her first love, but her first relationship, the first time she felt like a women. And Korra.

 "You were my first real hero. My first real friend. And it isn't that-- that you and Mako--- it's that . . . you don't care if I'm around or not. I don't mean anything to you."

  "That's not *true*!" Korra jumped to her feet. The Moose-Elk bellowed in surprise, but Asami couldn't care less at the moment.

 "Isn't it? Than why didn't you treat me like a friend and *talk to me*?"Asami scrambled to stand, less sure of foot that Korra. She nearly slid sideways down the hillside.

 Korra opened her mouth to retort, the Moose-Elk began to trample as one, and something shrieked. Asami clapped her hands over her ears, all the sound and fury of their confrontation dwarfed in one sourceless scream that doused her anger, drowned her ache, and called home only fear. It was a huge sound, encompassing all of the night, high pitched and decibels too loud. The Moose-Elk went crazy. She and Korra might have startled them but this frenzied them; they began to stampede down the little valley.

And that's when Asami saw it, with her gloves still cocooning her head: white wings and a white body rose from the crest of the opposite hill, ate up the sky for twenty feet, and screamed again. Asami thought she might have screamed back. She felt the wind from its wings send stinging ice flecks to bite her eyelids. Two black talons long as her torso hung below the beast, and two great black eyes, in which the moon glittered. It should have had a beak. It didn't. It had a maw, and a great many teeth within.

_Snowy Wolf Owl._

 The name did it no justice.

 Her feet slid again, tocking against something. Asami looked down. It was her spear, abandoned in the argument. Her glove was around the shaft, she noticed, she was picking it up. Why? What . . . oh.

The fear left her, following her wrath and ruin to a deep, black place where she couldn't reach them, and nothing was left in its wake but a curious certainty.

Asami ran.

 

***

 

 She watched herself do these things from a balcony seat. Here is what happened, and how she would recount it to her own little ones years down the road: Asami ran. Her legs were lean and strong and she was more agile than any of her friends, so when the snow took her traction, instead of falling, Asami skated down the hillside. The Wolf Owl was taking flight, but it was aiming for the Moose-Elk herd, talons out to snag flesh and tear away an unlucky morsel. Everything moved much slower than Asami would have guessed it appeared to an outsider. She would have had time to rethink her folly, but there was no thinking, only resolve: this was her monster and she would slay it. This was it. This was what the hunt was. This was the blessing of the moon and the frenzy of the blood.

Asami knew what to do. As the beast stretched its monster's claws for the kill, she hit the bottom snow bank spear-head first. The shaft bent, flexible by good craft and loving care, and then ricocheted back. Asami went with it. Asami vaulted. Asami *flew*.

In the air, she twirled the spear so that its deadly point was a driving arrow, guiding her home. She missed the body, but hit the wing, crashing into feathers ( _Here, that future self would pause and chuckle. What is it, mom? The young would ask. The feathers were as soft as Korra said, Asami would reply. They were the softest thing I ever felt_ ) and then she burst through the wing, scratching herself on the broken, hollow featherpoints. But her spear had hit home. She clung to it as the Wolf Owl tumbled crazily, screaming again, a sound that belonged with Koh and every demon of her girlhood imagination.

 She thought they would crash, but they didn't. The Wolf Owl flexed its wing, and Asami had no experience riding a bucking animal. Cars crashed, but they didn't resist a rider. The wing came up and she came with it, but when it came down, her hands slipped right off the end of the spear like it was oiled. In a way, it was. Black blood slicked the wood and greased her gloves.

 One again Asami flew, but this time she wasn't in control. She pinwheeled in the air and curled up to tumble her landing, absorb some of the fall. The ground greeted her with snow, so much softer than rock or soil, but infinitely more treacherous; Asami immediately lost her feet and this time, she did slide- she pitched forward, breaking her fall with her face.

 For a breathtaking moment Asami thought she was looking at the sky because all she could see were glittering stars, and then comprehended that was all internal. Sound was coming in muffled waves. Human shouting, maybe? The bellow of animals in fear. And the cry she heard in her bones. Asami rolled over.

 It was a blacker shape in a black fill, a shadow on the night itself. Something wet spattered over her. Asami tasted it; it was metallic, almost like the ozone the wreathed her electrified gloves. It was blood, raining from torn wing.

The Wolf Owl plunged toward her.

The ground shivered and tossed. Icicles again; but these were so much longer than their lunchtime shelter, and held only moonlight in their depths. They sprouted around her in piercing pillars. The Wolf Owl was much more agile than Asami gave it credit for. Despite its massive bulk it recoiled with two great downward thrusts of its wings, the draft knocking Asami flat against the hillside, but it wasn't powerful enough to fully stop. The icicles speared its breast. Not mortally, but with enough damage to make the thing wail. Asami got a good look at the fangs lining that powerful jaw. They could pierce her skull as easily as she pierced the skin of a fruit. They would crunch her up.

She was yanked away by her armpits. Definitely undignified. She was still numb save for the unrelenting bloodlust, but dignity was never optional, even when the ability to feel took a vacation. Korra pulled her away from the crashing ice as the Wolf Owl shattered the icicles in an animal fury. _Those break bones,_ Asami thought. An understatement. Those wings would break *people.*

"Hey, you! Ugly! Yeah, I'm talking to you, come on over here!"

 Korra was strafing across the hill top, waving her arms, leading the monster away from Asami. The great predator tracked her movements with an eerie twist of its ruffed neck. Asami realized she must have been camouflaged by the scattered chunks of icicle, or maybe Korra had covered her with a blanket of snow in the weird blank spots her memory was serving up, because the Wolf Owl forgot all about her and wheeled with Korra in its sights. It didn't come at her directly, but zoomed down the valley, leaving a trail of black splashes on the snow. A few white feathers drifted in the air behind it, each one as big as Asami's hand. She tried to stand, but the world reeled in a mad whirl-i-gig. Too many hits on the head over the last few months. She wanted to puke.

 The Wolf Owl banked, and came head on for Korra. Half-prone, half crouching, Asami saw metal catch the ambient light. Korra was fighting with her spear. In Asami's rush, it had felt powerful and brave; watching it, it looked insane. That tiny splinter against this terror?

At the last moment, Korra jumped into the air, propelled by a whirlwind that blew snow in the Wolf Owl's onyx eyes. She landed on its shoulders, between the beating wings. A precarious balance but she only needed a moment. The spear bucked and Korra drove it home.

Or would have, if the Wolf Owl hadn't executed another of those disturbing head twists, rotating its entire face 180 degrees to face Korra, almost taking off her hands and catching the spear in between protruding canines. It ripped the spear away from Korra and tossed weapon and woman both.

Korra crashed into the ground, which cracked and buckled around her in a crater.

 The spear pinwheeled though the air and landed within Asami's reach.

 _One chance,_ she thought. Standing was an exercise in control. Her blood beat down her temples and poured from her nose, filling her mouth. A perfect tooth was loose. Her ankle was twisted; who knew when that happened. Every vein in her forehead was carrying needles to her brain.

Asami grabbed the spear.

Hiroshi Sato insisted his daughter be prepared. The cynical truth of his intentions did not diminish the lessons. Trophies had lined her bedroom walls; Asami was proud of them as only a beloved child could be. Sewing, cooking, yoga, shiamsen . . . javelin-tossing.

_One last reason to thank you, Dad._

Asami aimed and let the spear fly. Its arc was perfect. Asami *knew* it would strike home, envisioned it before it became reality: the blade would part the gel of the Wolf-Owl’s right eye, homing in on the brain to nestle in wormy grey matter and end this fight. It flew true, right to target-- the Wolf Owl's eye exploded-- but Asami just didn't have enough power behind her throw. The weapon was stuck, the shaft wobbling as the Wolf Owl thrashed its head.

The Wolf Owl clawed at the protruding spear with its talon, clumsily trying to stay in the air. Korra was on her feet. She had no sharp, clever quip-- she didn't need one. She stomped her foot, and a boulder the size of her head shuddered loose from the snow. With one twirling kick, Korra smacked the stone against the end of the spear, like a hammer on a chisel. It drove it home.

The Wolf Owl screeched one last time, crashed into the hillside, and died in convulsions.

 

***

 

"What were you thinking?" Korra asked when Asami stumbled over. The corpse was steaming, radiating heat in its expiration. Now Asami really did feel ill. _I killed it. It’s gone, and I did that. I've never killed anything before._

"I wanted to be valuable," she answered finally. She couldn't bear to touch the thing, and yet she was proud. Deeply proud. It wasn't like this death would be a waste. None of the hunt's gains were wasted; they helped the Southern Water tribe survive the coming of the 30 day night, a time so trying it gave them a reputation as the toughest people in the four nations. These warm feathers would be priceless. They would line cradles, fill downy blankets, be traded for  more lamp oil (maybe electric lights? A girl could dream.)

"Asami." Korra was there, holding her by the shoulders. She couldn't believe how grateful she was for that as her whole world tilted on its axis. Gravity seemed the only part of physics still assured. “I'm sorry.""

""What?"

“I'm sorry. For . . . for making you feel unwanted. I didn't mean to do that." Korra looked away. “I've never had a friend before, either. I didn't know how to act. All I could think about was myself, and I screwed it up, but I *never* wanted you gone. You just--"

 "Made you feel guilty?"

 Korra looked sheepish. "Yeah."

Asami needed to sit down. Her head was pounding and now her nose was hurting, too. "You should be."

 Laughing hurt, but they did it with abandon until their bellies could take no more, releasing the tension of the twin fights in hysterics. It wasn't very respectful of the dead, but Asami was too tired to and drained to do much more than offer a thank-you-and-I'm-sorry to whatever spirit was lingering. “You going to stop babying me now?" she asked.

 "Only if you stop biting my head off.  Um. About the stuff, with Mako . . ."

Asami sighed. "Korra . . . let it lie. Mako's Mako. You and him are you and him. What I'm worried about, what I want, is me and you to be okay."

 Korra considered. She took one of the feathers from the Wolf Owl, smeared with blood. "This is your kill," she said, and approached Asami. With a steady hand, she drew the feather across Asami's forehead and cheeks. It didn't make much difference with how much blood was smeared on her already, but the gesture, the ritual, that's what mattered. As Korra pulled her hand away, Asami grabbed her wrist.

"No," she echoed, taking the feather, drawing one unsteady line down Korra's cheekbone. "It's ours."


End file.
